


Are You Wearing Space Pants (Because Your Ass is Out of This World)

by TRASHCAKE



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Space, Aphrodisiacs, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Sounding, Tentacles, Triple Penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRASHCAKE/pseuds/TRASHCAKE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae is kinda in love with one of his customers, and Baekhyun is of no help whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Wearing Space Pants (Because Your Ass is Out of This World)

**Author's Note:**

> The working title I had for this was Suchentacles, and I feel like nothing will ever top that. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Please don't tell my mother I wrote this)

Jongdae doesn't have many regrets in life. Theoretically, he should regret his purchase of a plot of land located on Titan, the largest moon of Saturn. Realistically, turning said plot of land into a high-class drinking establishment, on a moon full of quaint, homely vacation homes and retirement villages should have resulted in a massive financial failure. Currently, the only thing Jongdae regrets is allowing Baekhyun to share lodgings in the apartment upstairs from his bar. 

“This is a counter, not a cat bed,” Jongdae swats at the cat hybrid with his polishing cloth. The lazy twitch of Baekhyun’s tail serves as the only indication that he's heard Jongdae’s complaint, “And I'm pretty sure that Arkathian you were with last week gave you nanofleas.” 

“I've had my flea shot,” Baekhyun drawls lazily, pink tail sliding along the _formerly_ spotless surface of his counter, “Plus, I'm not the one who reeks of Gaamroi spunk.” 

With the constant innovation of technology, new materials are required. The current trend in intergalactic travel includes metallic hydrogen, a resource naturally rich beneath Saturn's surface. Jongdae’s father may or may not have had something to do with this new trend, a thinly veiled attempt to help his youngest son succeed in his first investment. But that's neither here, nor there, as with mining comes miners; and with a planet as dangerous as Saturn, they come with pockets full of Intergalactic Credit Units and nowhere else to spend it but at Jongdae’s bar. 

“Your sole reason for being here is to become a sugar kitten for rich miners,” Jongdae says. Baekhyun may be a pain in the ass, but he's the only constant company Jongdae has. Plus, Baekhyun draws a crowd; young, cashed up miners looking for a little _affection_ will spend a fortune on drinks in an attempt to get into Baekhyun’s tiny, Golrath leather shorts. “You can't judge me.” 

“I'm not judging you, I'm impressed,” Baekhyun replies. He's doing that thing again, where he widens his eyes and pouts a little. Usually, he uses it to seduce unsuspecting patrons. With Jongdae, this facial expression means he's trying to get out of trouble, “Their dicks are as thick as a fist, and they come enough to drown a Terran toddler.” 

Waving his fist around as a visual reference, Baekhyun stares at Jongdae imploringly, “How is your asshole intact?” 

“The state of my asshole is none of your business.” Jongdae throws the cloth as a form of retaliation. It lands on Baekhyun’s face, the soft fabric fluttering softly as the hybrid giggles. 

Truthfully, Jongdae’s been limping for a week. Gaamroi are gentle giants, but the one he'd spent the (admittedly _fantastic_ ) night with had never been with a Terran, and wasn't quite aware that things _that big_ shouldn't really be in places _that small_ and that not every species has a secondary breathing orifice.

Nevertheless, limp or no limp and apparent stench aside, Jongdae doesn't regret a single second spent with Chanyeol the Gaamori. In fact, apart from the incredible profits, meeting (and subsequently fucking) the conglomeration of different species drawn to Saturn’s tumultuous surface is his favourite part of the job.

“You won't see me within three standard units of a Gaamori dick,” Unfortunately for Jongdae, the cloth still covering Baekhyun’s face does nothing to muffle the sound of his voice, “The red skin would clash awfully with my fur. It’s awfully unappealing.” 

Jongdae refrains from mentioning that Chanyeol is a _Southern_ Gaamori, meaning his skin is a rather pretty pink colour, and would match Baekhyun’s fur quite nicely. With his fluorescent green eyes and the soft, hair-like feathers on his head, Jongdae is sure that he'd make a great candidate for Baekhyun’s next Sugar Daddy of the Week.

Smiling knowingly to himself, Jongdae says nothing, mentally planning to introduce the two the next time Chanyeol’s mining squadron is allowed leave.

\------

Honestly, Jongdae’s initial plan for his bar was to cater to the rising population of wealthy retirees. Open mid-morning, close before the hour turned late, serving top-shelf liquor from across the known galaxy. A solid plan with potential for a comfortable profit. 

It's called _Hexagon_ , so named after the brilliant view of the whirling, hexagonal vortex of Saturn’s north pole, which can be seen through the stunning Plutonian Crystal window that forms the front wall. 

No one appreciates the view, however, not when Baekhyun is sitting on the lap of one of the Martian miners, tail listing lazily behind him as the poor enamoured soul feeds him delicate slices of Terran Peach. 

Jongdae doesn't have the time to wonder how the delacy ended up in his bar, not when there's a line of thirsty miners at the counter, but the thought sticks in the back of his mind as he mixes drinks and accepts credits through the transfer chip embedded in his wrist. Terran Peaches are rare, a relic of old. The fruit is one of the last surviving pieces of Terran history, from the days when they were called _Humans_ , and not _Terrans_ , when Jongdae’s ancestors looked to the sky with more questions than answers. 

They're one of the most expensive foods in the galaxy, rare and highly sought. Even with the combined credits of three miners, it'd be quite difficult to secure even a single piece of the fruit. 

“Apparently they taste better when they're grown on Earth,” A voice says, loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the bar. Jongdae represses the urge to scoff. The Terran homeworld is barren, nothing has grown there for a millennia-- a few mining companies still operate from the planet's surface, dredging the last of the magma from the core, draining the last resources from the planet before its inevitable collapse, “But then again, there's no one old enough to confirm it.” 

“I don't know,” Jongdae turns to face the mysterious voice, “I'm sure there's a few Wensou who remember Terra’s glory days.” 

“Maybe those immortal fuckers started the rumour, then?” The voice belongs to Junmyeon, a regular. His blue skin glows so prettily under the light, whatever species he hails from seem to have a phosphorescent sheen about them. But maybe that's Jongdae’s bias talking. Out of all the patrons of his establishment, Junmyeon is by far the most attractive, “They were the ones who integrated Terrans into the Galactic Alliance. They've probably had a peach or two in their time.”

Those who visit Hexagon rarely do so because they favour it. There are two sides of Titan, the residential, and the mining; Jongdae’s bar is the only such establishment this side of the moon, and it just so happens that he's located in the very centre of the Mining District. He suspects that yet again, his father may have had something to do with it, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Paternal bias aside, there are very few beings who grace the polished counter top of Hexagon out of their own free will, with Baekhyun being one and Junmyeon the other. 

He's very rich, and not from Titan. In fact, Junmyeon has made weekly visits for more than two years, and Jongdae still can't pinpoint which species he belongs to. Part of him suspects he's a spy for Jongdae’s father, a fellow Mining heir cum property mogul, someone with more money than he knows what to do with who sends updates on Jongdae’s life to the man who in someway owns half the solar system.

“Here, I know you like sweet things,” Junmyeon holds out a slice of fruit for Jongdae to take. His fingers are thick, and there's only four of them; though his skin glows blue and his eyes gleam in a piercing silver, Junmyeon is mostly Terran in appearance. But sometimes there's something unsettling about him, and Jongdae suppresses a shiver as Junmyeon’s tongue, thin and purple, slithers from his mouth to curl around his own slice of the peach.

“Famks,” Jongdae says around a mouthful of the fruit, leaning forward to take the offered slice between his teeth. His lips brush against the skin of Junmyeon’s fingers, though not on purpose, not entirely. Jongdae’s long given up on his attempts at seducing Junmyeon, the mysterious alien has been subtly, yet gently rejecting Jongdae for years. 

“You reek of Gaamori,” The lessened distance between them has Junmyeon’s nostrils visibly flaring, eyebrows furrowing along his forehead, “You _mated_ with a _Gaamori_?”

Junmyeon’s voice lowers to a hiss, the accent of his native language seeping through his usually flawless pronunciation of the Universal Common Tongue. Jongdae is terrified and vaguely turned on; so used to sweet, polite Junmyeon with his useless facts and kind smile, this new, demanding Junmyeon is a shock to his system that has Jongdae’s cock twitching in his pants. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it _mating_ ,” Jongdae says. He holds Junmyeon’s gaze, but lowers his head submissively none the less, “More like a one night stand.” 

“Casual or not, they're very _specific_ when it comes to intercourse,” Junmyeon reaches out, running one of his thick fingers along Jongdae’s bottom lip, “They must ejaculate twice into each reciprocal orifice.” 

Jongdae remembers walking out of Chanyeol’s single room in the mining quarters, pearlescent gold slick still dripping down his chin and from his ass. It was the messiest sex he's ever had, but the Gaamori’s cock, ribbed and comprised of three fist-sized knots, had filled him up so well that Jongdae doesn't mind that he had to throw out the clothes he was wearing. 

He's always liked things on the _bigger_ size, anyway. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jongdae mutters, absentmindedly wondering if he should be ashamed. He's still rather new in his sexual exploration of other species and perhaps sleeping with a Gaamori is somewhat taboo. “I’m not complaining, though.” 

“Their sex organs are hardly small, Jongdae,” Junmyeon chides with a frown. He seems disappointed, yet somewhat thoughtful. His finger is still tracing along Jongdae’s lower lip, “Terrans aren't made for things that big.” 

“I like them big,” Jongdae thinks they might be flirting, in some weird, roundabout, fucked up way. “The bigger the better.” 

Junnyeon inhales sharply, and from his vantage point Jongdae can see the bulge in his pants. Whatever he's got going on down there is big, Jongdae’s know this for years. It's hard to hide a bulge that size, especially since Junmyeon wears clothing designed for Terrans and their biologically inferior cocks. But this time it seems to move, pressing against the seam of his pants with a mind of it's own. Junmyeon’s cock is seemingly sentient and Jongdae is done with playing coy; openly staring at the writhing bulge, he licks his lips, catching the tip of Junmyeon’s finger with his tongue as he retracts it back into his mouth. 

“Make sure you eat some more of the peaches,” Junmyeon’s words are innocent but his tone drips with filth and all sorts of dirty promises. He's talking about peaches but the way he speaks makes it seem like he's describing the way he'd fuck Jongdae with his mysterious cock, “I bought them for you.” 

Retracting his hand with one final caress against Jongdae’s bottom lip, Junmyeon gathers his things and walks away, slipping through the crystal doors as the bar's other patrons ignore him.   
Dropping his head against the counter, Jongdae lets out a loud groan. If Junmyeon sticks to his schedule, he won't be gracing Hexagon (or Jongdae) with his presence, or crotch, for at least another week. And if Junmyeon keeps teasing him like this, Jongdae’s going to combust from sexual frustration before he can get his mouth around just whatever it is Junmyeon is hiding in his pants. 

“This is a counter, not a pillow,” Baekhyun snickers, slamming his glass down in a wordless demand for a refill. Behind him isn't the Martian he was with before, but instead Chanyeol who appears to be sucking a mark into the skin of Baekhyun’s neck. 

Typical.

Jongdae doesn't reply, he just reaches for his discarded cloth, smirking into the crook of his arm at the sound of Baekhyun’s indignant cry as the cotton once again connects with his face. 

\------

There are rare days when _Hexagon’s_ doors remain closed, quiet moments where Jongdae can pay bills and order stock without the looming deadline of opening hours. His days off coincide with periods of calm weather on Jupiter's surface, all miners report for duty when the storms clear, and they work almost around the clock until the winds pick up once more. They get paid overtime, of course, and Jongdae is the one reaping the profits in the end. 

His last month of earnings have been lower than usual; the weather on Jupiter has been almost picturesque as of late, and the promise of a bigger paycheck has meant that most miners cut their allocated leave to only one or two days in order to cash in on the opportunity. It’s getting to the point where Jongdae is only just breaking even, something that hasn't happened since the bar’s opening. 

Maybe he'll ask Baekhyun to request more expensive drinks from his suitors in the meantime. 

“I have a date for mating season,” Baekhyun has the uncanny ability to appear when someone is thinking about him. Sometimes Jongdae believes that his genes were spliced with DNA from one of those outer rim races capable of telepathy. Baekhyun assures him he's part _Felis Catus_ and part Terran. His pink fur was his own choice, the genetic manipulation procedure performed in a fancy Martian clinic some years ago, “I'm both terrified and horny.” 

“Are you ready to be a father?” Jongdae replies. He's almost certain that Baekhyun has no idea what's in store for him. Mating season may be a solid week of gratuitous sex, but the other party will have the expectations of _children_ , “I never thought of you as the paternal type.” 

“I'm not,” Baekhyun looks at him like he's an idiot, “But apparently Gaamori eggs are sent back to their home planet for nurturing. So I don't have to do anything but enjoy the sex.” 

Jongdae’s knowledge of other species’ reproductive cycles is still somewhat limited. Of course, he'd learnt some minor things in school-- but there are so many races with so many different ways of continuing their genes, and it's hard to remember them all. 

“I wonder if my genes will be passed along too?” Baekhyun mutters, collapsing on the couch adjacent from Jongdae, “I mean, one day I might see a Gaamori with my ears on them or something.” 

Jongdae tries to imagine a Gaamori, with their large height and textured skin, a pair of cat ears perched on top of their feathered head. Someone with Chanyeol’s gait and Baekhyun’s excitable tail; it's a hilarious mental image, and Jongdae can't help but laugh out loud. 

“Not helping,” Baekhyun says, tail flicking in annoyance, “I'm excited for the week of sex, but I don't wanna fuck some kid up because I was thinking with my dick.” 

“The Gaamori are all about strengthening their genes,” Jongdae replies. He's done his fair share of research on the species that enter his bar, reading up on individual cultures in an attempt to cater to all of them, “Chanyeol probably picked you in an attempt to breed the clumsiness out of his next kid.” 

“I thought he picked me because I'm cute,” Baekhyun sniffs. For someone who wanted nothing to do with a Gaamori not days prior, he's taking the whole thing a little too seriously, “I’m almost offended.” 

“I'm sure he thinks you're cute,” Jongdae tries to soothe. Baekhyun knows he's attractive, there's no real reason to keep pointing it out, “Maybe he wants to breed a cuter variety of Gaamori.” 

“Maybe,” Baekhyun shifts, the leather of his favorite shorts squeaking against the leather of his favorite sofa, “What’s he like in bed?” 

“Curious and messy,” Jongdae says after a pause, “With an unrestrained Terran fetish.” 

“Oh, good,” Baekhyun replies, his mood (and tail) perking up at Jongdae’s comments, “He doesn't know Hybrid Terrans can self-lubricate, does he?” 

Terrans and Hybrid Terrans are widely regarded as the same species due to their similar base DNA, but there are differences in their biology that other races tend to overlook. As it is, Baekhyun is far more compatible with alien dicks than Jongdae. But that's nothing a whole bunch of Terran Strength Lubricant, a lot of patience and a Can Do Attitude can't fix.

“Probably not,” Jongdae sighs, “Your magical asshole will give Chanyeol hours of enjoyment, I'm sure.” 

“Hours?” Baekhyun cackled wildly, “More like _days_.”

“I can't believe you're okay with smelling like Gaamori jizz for the next month,” Jongdae finally points out. Apparently the scent lingers, if the knowing looks and suggestive snickers he's been receiving for the past few weeks are any indication, “You were so against it not too long ago, what changed your mind?” 

“A week of sex?” Baekhyun says as if his point should be completely obvious. He looks at Jongdae with a raised eyebrow, “How could I pass that up?” 

Jongdae doesn't respond. 

“Anyway,” Baekhyun’s got the kind of lecherous grin on his face that strikes fear into Jongdae’s heart-- a happy Baekhyun, from his experience, is a scary Baekhyun. The hybrid only smiles at Jongdae when he's about to kick him out of the apartment in sexile, or absolutely destroy his self-esteem. Usually both. “While I'm out, maybe you should invite Junmyeon over?” 

Baekhyun winks at him aggressively. Then begins to mimic the act of giving a blowjob. Finally, his motor skills sync up with each other, as the hybrid begins to wink obnoxiously and suck and invisible dick simultaneously. 

“Goddamn it, Baekhyun,” Jongdae groans, burying his face in his palms, “Not this shit again.” 

“I bet he's got a Terran fetish,” Baekhyun exclaims in glee, and Jongdae tries desperately to remain calm, “I bet he thinks your biology is _fascinating_.” 

“Stop that,” Jongdae groans, flicking a coaster at Baekhyun’s face, “You know he's not interested.”

“Hot alien of unknown origin buys you Terran peaches because he can, and you think he doesn't want in your pants?” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, tail flicking in annoyance, “I mean, even if you two aren't sexually compatible, he still has a mouth.”

“Baekhyun, no,” Jongdae has run out of projectiles. He considers throwing the small dome projecting his sales figures into the air above the table, but it's an expensive piece of tech (a gift from his father, naturally) and Baekhyun just isn't worth it. 

“Have you seen his tongue?” Baekhyun continues with an awed sigh, “The _things_ he could do with that thing.” 

“We’re not having this discussion,” Jongdae grumbles, raising a hand to swipe through the hologram projection. He needs to recalculate his budget; with Baekhyun being out of commission for a week, possibly longer, there's no one around to up sell. Figures and charts keep him from thinking about Junmyeon’s tongue, and what it's potentially capable of, for the upteenth time. 

It's not his most common fantasy but it's up there, along with what potentially lies in Junmyeon’s obscenely tight pants. Or more embarrassingly, what the courting ritual is for Junmyeon’s people. It’s not like Jongdae gets off to that one, just likes to think about it when he's feeling particularly lonely.

“Anyway, I'm off,” Baekhyun says, drawing Jongdae out of his courting ritual fantasies, “Can't be late to mating season.”

“Where are your spare clothes?” Baekhyun has nothing with him, and barely anything on. It's nothing unusual, and nothing for Baekhyun to be ashamed of; some species don't have the need for clothes, and in this part of the galaxy, fashion is an optional extra, “You're going to need them.”

“One week of sex, Jongdae,” Baekhyun deadpans, “I'm not going to need clothes.” 

“When you leave, you're going to want some,” Jongdae says, very seriously, “Trust me.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun get it. He's probably remembering the way Jongdae came home covered in a pearlescent gold sheen, grumbling about needing a change of clothes, “ _Oh._ ”

Baekhyun all but scampers back to the elevator in his haste, muttering to himself about potential outfit choices. 

Jongdae laughs. 

He tries not to think about Junmyeon but fails miserably.

\------

“You _reek_ ,” Kyungsoo, a Martian and one of Jongdae’s loyal customers decides to inform him. He looks positively _green_ , but then again, all Martians do, “Like honestly, what have you been fucking?”

“Gaamori,” Jongdae replies with a grin, passing Kyungsoo his drink before the Martian even has a moment to order, “Though the scent should have worn off by now.” 

“You don't smell like Gaamori,” He says with a puzzled look. He takes the drink wordlessly and sips from the glass with a thoughtful expression, “Honestly, it smells like a mating claim.” 

Jongdae chokes on the artificial oxygen, “What?” 

“There really aren't many species that still do shit like that,” He says, “I’m pretty sure it's only the Tekrens that scent mark.” 

“I’ve never even _met_ a Tekren,” Jongdae replies. Of course he's heard of them, the species who first proposed the Intergalactic Alliance. Apparently they're evolutionary cousins of his own people, akin to the old Mermaid lore of Terran mythology. An amphibious race, with the ability to live both in water and on land, the Tekrens are known to have a rich history and culture as well as very rich bank accounts, “How could I be marked by one?” 

“Has anyone strange touched you in the past few weeks?” The brief touch of Junmyeon’s fingers against his bottom lip, just the slightest brush. The dark look in his eyes as he drew away--- 

“You know,” Kyungsoo continues, “The owner of the mines is a Tekren.” 

He looks unbelievably smug, knowing. 

“I thought my father owned the mine,” Jongdae replies weakly, staring at his finger and willing it to reveal its secrets. 

“Nope,” Kyungsoo grins, “Junmyeon does.” 

On one hand, Jongdae is proud he's managed to make his business work on his own, without his father's help. On the other hand, he's been accidentally marked as a mate by one of the richest beings in the galaxy. 

“What does it smell like?” Jondgae asks curiously, “The claim, I mean.”

“Like a threat,” Kyungsoo discloses, “It’s difficult to describe, but if the smell could talk, then it'd be screaming _mine_.”

Or not so accidentally, then. 

Jongdae wonders how Junmyeon went from politely ignoring his advances to putting a claim on him. He's mildly annoyed that Junmyeon didn't ask him first; sure, he’ll sleep with every attractive being who walks through the door, but that doesn't mean he's something to be owned. And sure, if Junmyeon ever offers himself, Jongdae will be bent over the nearest surface before Junmyeon’s clothes are even off. 

He sighs, polishing a glass with fingerprints that just will not budge. They're going about this all the wrong way, 

 

\------

Junmyeon’s claim hasn't faded. He's also all but MIA and Jongdae hasn't had sex in a month. Apparently, no one wants to sleep with the claimed partner of a Tekren, so he's had an awful amount of trouble picking up. 

On the other hand, Baekhyun is glowing. Literally. Apparently Gaamori eggs are phosphorescent, and his skin shines with a soft, golden glow. He's also glowing due to the pregnancy hormones and his almost constant need for sex.

“If I had known pregnancy was this fun, I’d have accepted far more mating season proposals,” Baekhyun sighs dreamily. He’s lying on Jongdae’s counter again, the same one he just cleaned not moments ago. Jongdae looks between the cloth in his hand and the hybrid sprawled along the wooden surface with a thoughtful expression, trying to decide whether or not he wants to throw the alcohol stained rag at Baekhyun’s face or just shove it straight down his throat, “Honestly, you should try it some time.” 

“Yeah, well,” Jongdae begins, grimacing as he accidentally wipes his face with the sullied cloth rather than his spare hand, “I’d have to, you know, be _unclaimed_ for that to happen.”

Baekhyun cackles obnoxiously, Jongdae’s rather unfortunate predicament brings him untold joy each and every time it’s brought up in conversation. He’s a ball of giddy, phosphorescent schadenfreude and Jongdae eagerly awaits the day where Junmyeon and his accidental claim isn’t quite so funny.

“You were claimed by the guy you want, but on _accident_ ,” Baekhyun gets out through fits of laughter, hiccuping around his words as his lungs try and regain their lost oxygen, “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I thought being a living, breathing incubator for a seven-foot pink alien was the best thing to happen to you?” Jongdae mutters in reply, desperately trying to keep the conversation away from himself and his rather unfortunate love life. 

“Well yeah,” Baekhyun recovers from his laughter, but his ears still twitch with the remnants of amusement, “But watching you implode from sexual frustration is a close second.” 

“I hate you,” Jongdae says, stuffing his cloth into Baekhyun’s gaping mouth, but the disgusted groans and splutters he lets out are only vaguely satisfying, “I’m gonna hire a new hybrid waiter, someone cuter than you.”

Jongdae is certain that Baekhyun is cursing at him, maybe trying to argue that there is _no one_ in the known galaxy as cute as he is, but there’s a layer of fabric and old alcohol muffling his angry retorts. 

It’s a small victory.

\------ 

“We're closed!” Jongdae yells, rolling his eyes as someone knocks on Hexagon’s front door. The weather on the planet below is still wonderful, but there's still a few miners milling about on leave. He's taken the well deserved time off to finally get around to polishing his glassware; some fingerprints still stick to their surface, even after several washes. He doesn't know what's in some species’ DNA that makes their touch adhere even to Plutonian crystal, but it's a bitch to get off. 

“Not even for me?” Junmyeon has the nerve to look attractive as the door slides open, revealing him in all his tight pants-ed glory. The light from outside hits his hair, and he appears almost ethereal, glowing. Apparently Terrans are the only species incapable of glowing in the dark. Jongdae snorts at his train of thought as Junmyeon lets himself into the bar's interior, “I’m your best customer.”

“You,” Jongdae begins, but cannot find the words to finish his sentence. There are so many things he wants to yell and scream, questions he wants answered. He can’t voice them, so he settles for placing the uncleanable glass back onto the shelf and fixing Junmyeon with an affronted look, “Where have you been?”

“Business trip,” Junmyeon replies flippantly, taking his usual seat at the bar. His nostrils, or his species’ equivalent to them, flare slightly as he settles into the stool. Jongdae doesn’t miss the movement, “You know how it is.”

“Not really,” Jongdae shrugs. He’s been stuck on the moon for years, any attempts at hiring new staff end with them running off to the mines for better pay. Baekhyun’s the only one who has bothered sticking around, but he’s figured out that rich miners pay big tips to pretty hybrids in tiny shorts, “Have fun?”

The conversation is awkward, stilted, far from their usual banter. Junmyeon visits Hexagon to relax and unwind when he’s in the general vicinity. The moment he crosses the threshold, he’s not some hot shot mine owner, he’s just a regular patron at a fancy looking bar with a dive bar reputation. 

It’s like Junmyeon knows that Jongdae knows that Junmyeon has claimed him, accidentally or no. And Jongdae knows that Junmyeon knows that Jongdae-- his head throbs, a headache forming along aching temples. 

“So,” Junmyeon starts uncertainty, “You still smell like me.”

“I’m aware,” Jongdae replies, scrubbing at the counter, trying to remove the sticky gold substance Baekhyun seems to ooze. He tries not to think too hard about the logistics to how, where and _why_ Gaamori jizz has ended up on his counter. He’ll give himself an aneurysm, “Fix that, for me, would you?” 

“Why?” Junmyeon raises his eyebrow in Jongdae’s direction, unbelievably smug, “I thought you wanted this?”

So Junmyeon’s not oblivious to Jongdae’s attraction? He’s just not responding? Or he’s responding in the way his species responds. Jongdae _really_ should have paid more attention during his Interspecies Cultural Learning class at school. 

“Yes, but,” Jongdae sighs, “Ask first, Junmyeon. Ask first.” 

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says, a little shy, “I didn’t know how to,” 

“You’ve ignored me for years,” Jongdae starts, giving up on the gold stain on his bench. He’ll have to have it replaced and he’s really not looking forward to the renovation costs, “Why the sudden change of mind?” 

“My people, we’re, uh,” He looks at his crotch and then back at Jongdae, “Not really _compatible_ with Terrans.” 

“You didn’t want to date me because we can’t fuck,” Jongdae deadpans, “Are you _serious_?” 

“It’s not like that!” He’s wringing his hands together nervously, shifting in his seat as he speaks. His mannerisms are almost cute, and Jongdae fights away a smile, “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Your dick is sentient,” Jongdae says, “I have seen that thing _move_.” 

“Dicks,” Junmyeon whispers, “Plural.” 

“I haven’t had sex in months because of your claim,” Jongdae starts, eyes dark and tone dangerous, “And you’re here telling me you have multiple dicks?” 

“Yes?” Junmyeon whimpers. Jongdae almost feels powerful, “Is that a problem?” 

“I have been flirting with you for years,” He continues, carefully approaching Junmyeon, “And you didn’t think to tell me about the multiple dicks thing?”

“It never really came up in conversation--”

“I haven’t had sex in _months_ ,” Jongdae reiterates, teasingly playing with Junmyeon’s fingers where they lay on the counter, “Are you and your multiple dicks going to do anything about that?”   
Junmyeon’s eyes darken in promise.

\------

Junmyeon’s tongue is wonderful and dexterous, thick and textured. Jongdae sucks lightly on the tip as it withdraws from his mouth. It seems to exude a thick, syrup like substance. Jongdae licks the sweetness from his lips as Junmyeon drags his tongue along the column of his neck. He gasps at the sensation, gripping tightly at Junmyeon’s shoulders as he tastes his skin.

All semblance of power Jongdae felt is gone, he’s utterly powerless against Junmyeon, pushed up against the counter, legs wrapped around Junmyeon’s waist. He can feel whatever it is in Junmyeon’s pants beginning to stir, writhing against Jongdae's thigh; shuddering and sliding over one another, desperately trying to break free of their confines.

He's never been so turned on in his life, holding on to Junmyeon as his legs shake, Jongdae can't help but let out small moans and whimpers with each touch of Junmyeon’s tongue against his skin. 

“Oh my God,” Jongdae all but sobs, shuddering as Junmyeon sinks his teeth into his neck. Jongdae’s about to come, teetering on the brink of orgasm, and they haven't even reached the end of foreplay yet. Junmyeon drags each touch out, explores Jongdae’s body over his clothes with maddening purpose. 

“I think,” Junmyeon pants, pausing to suck at the skin below Jongdae’s ear, “I think my saliva is an aphrodisiac to Terrans.” 

That explains the heat, the ache, the _need_. Jongdae responds by pulling their mouths together once more, pushing his tongue against Junmyeon’s and feeling it curl. He licks his lips with a smirk. 

Junmyeon responds by pulling at Jongdae’s shirt, removing it from his body and immediately putting that _wonderful_ tongue to use on his nipples, textured surface combined with Jongdae’s increased sensitivity has him pulling at Junmyeon’s hair in an attempt to stay grounded.

His tongue can curl around the entirety of Jongdae’s nipple, leaving Junmyeon’s mouth to free to add extra suction; it's unlike anything Jongdae's ever experienced, and the combination of the aphrodisiac and his pent up sexual frustration means that it's already the best sex he's ever had, and he hasn't even _seen_ Junmyeon’s dick(s).

Jongdae doesn't even realise that his pants have been undone until Junmyeon lets out a grunt of frustration when they don't slide easily past his thighs, fabric too tight for easy removal. 

He does Junmyeon’s task for him, pushing the fabric down his thighs with a seductive sway of his hips, leaving nothing but bare skin in its wake. 

“Turn around,” Junmyeon’s eyes are dark and full of filthy promises, of that tongue being used somewhere else.

Shuffling as well as he can, Jongdae maneuvers himself around, preemptively gripping onto the counter. With legs as wide as he can get them, he bends over, his chest rubbing against the surface of the counter top. 

The first touch on Junmyeon’s thick fingers against his skin sends a shudder through his body. Jongdae tightens his grip, white knuckled and fingers curling along the counter’s edge.

Junmyeon takes his time, traces along Jongdae’s spine with his fingers and tongue, sucking along individual knobs and ridges as he ventures further down, so slowly that Jongdae feels as if he might cry. It’s maddening, the contrast of tongue on skin, the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins. It’s a subtle heat, a persistent warmth that floods his body, makes him ache. 

He tries to tell Junmyeon to hurry up, to do something other than tease and touch and taste, but his tongue lies useless in his mouth, Jongdae is only capable of small whines and moans, sounds of bliss as he submits to the heat. 

Curious fingers spread his asscheeks, the touch is cold but the press of the tongue against his rim is warm, wet. Jongdae can feel the saliva dripping from Junmyeon’s mouth, it slides across his sac and down his thighs, thick and sticky; it caresses his skin just as the fingertips along his cheeks soothe in circles, Junmyeon’s tongue pushing past the rim with ease. 

Jongdae’s always known that Junmyeon’s tongue is long, but inside of him, it feels even longer, sliding further and further inwards, to the point where, through the hazy fog, Jongdae realises that it must be _so much longer_ than he originally thought. It’s like nothing else, the soft, dextrous muscle writhing against his walls, the tip flicking along his prostate. He rocks back on it, and it feels like he’s being fucked; with a high pitched whine he comes, fingers gripping against the counter. 

He turns to face Junmyeon, watches with hooded eyes as he retracts his tongue, whining as it slips free. Purple and dripping with silver saliva, Junmyeon’s tongue hangs past his chin. With a crooked smirk, he curls it back into his mouth, eyes trained on Jongdae’s heaving form. 

Wordlessly, Junmyeon begins removing his clothes, slowly, patiently. Jongdae’s orgasm has done nothing to ease the ache, he waits with baited breath as Junmyeon’s skin comes into view.   
He's beautiful, stunning, blue skin shining in the light of the bar. Jongdae’s a little bit in love; with his shy smiles and good company, yet powerful and dominating aura; Jongdae can't help but feel a little infatuated.

Junmyeon’s hands finally undo the clasp of his pants, and Jongdae finds himself perking up in interest; this is it. The big reveal. The reason why Jongdae’s been rejected for all these years. 

When Junmyeon says _multiple dicks_ he means three-- long, thick and writhing, subtle textures along what appears to be the underside. They're blue like the rest of him, fading into a soft silver along the thinner tips. 

“ _That’s_ what you were worried about?” Jongdae regains his snark for a moment. They're big, sure, and if Junmyeon wants to use all three of them at once it’ll be a stretch. But Jongdae has a Can Do Attitude, aphrodisiac flooding through his system and years of unrequited lust to deal with. Three dicks are nothing, no matter how thick, nor sentient they are, “Junmyeon, that looks like the kind of challenge I'm up for.” 

“I didn't know,” Junmyeon slips a finger into Jongdae’s hole, thrusting gently as he speaks, “I thought they'd scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” Jongdae pants as Junmyeon inserts a second finger, “I'm unbelievably turned on.” 

“There’s more.” He says. Jongdae assumes he's talking about fingers, but then something caresses at his inner thigh. A lot of somethings. A whole lot more than three.

Shooting a glance over his shoulder, Jongdae is disappointed to find he can't see a thing. He can still feel them, though, whatever they are, sliding across his thighs. 

Junmyeon lifts him suddenly, Jongdae yelping in surprise as he's pushed onto the countertop, facing Junmyeon, legs spread and hole exposed.

He's right. There's definitely more than three. There's an undefinable amount of small, writhing tentacles branching from underneath Junmyeon’s three main cocks, each one a different thickness and length, and all of them slowly making their way towards Jongdae. 

“Even better,” He says, breath hitching as the first tentacle slides its way along his cock. It's thin, thinner than the rest, slick with something akin to Junmyeon’s saliva. It teases over the head of Jongdae’s cock, dipping into the slit. He expects it to retract, to slide further upwards. He doesn't expect to slide _into_ his urethra, wiggling slightly, the briefest of movements causing a shockwave of sensations through Jongdae’s system. 

“Fuck,” He cries out, but he’s not complaining, not in the slightest, not when he finds himself covered in tentacles, caressing at his thighs, his sack, his nipples. One of the thicker ones wraps itself around his cock, jerking it slightly and shifting the tentacle within. Another finds its way to his mouth, he wraps his lips around it eagerly, feels the way it swells in his mouth and leaks that sticky, sweet fluid. 

It’s a bombardment of his senses, a pure overload, slick tentacles caressing his entire body, Junmyeon watching darkly as his appendages make Jongdae fall apart. 

“You ready?” Junmyeon asks, positioning the first main tentacle at Jongdae’s entrance. He hums his affirmation around the writhing tentacle in his mouth. 

It pushes in with ease, lubricated by its own slick, and it fills Jongdae in a way nothing else has. With a snap of his hips, Junmyeon bottoms out, hips resting against Jongdae’s ass, sub-tentacles still caressing across his skin. He feels full, but not full enough. One tentacle is nice, it feels comfortable. Jongdae has no doubt that Junmyeon could make him come with only one tentacle, in fact, he could probably have him coming over and over again with just a finger alone, but Jongdae’s been promised _three_ and so he’s far from satisfied with just one. 

“More,” He rasps, letting the tentacle drop from his lips. One more joins the first as he opens his mouth again, the girth stretching his lips wide, pushing against his tongue. Junmyeon complies wordlessly, the tip of the second main tentacle slides around his stretched rim, slowly easing in alongside its counterpart. More of that fullness, that Jongdae craves, they slide around each other, twisting inside of him. It’s like Junmyeon’s tongue, only thicker; soft and wet, moving and shifting subtly inside him. It’s still not enough. 

“More,” His speech is garbled by the tentacles in his mouth, drool leaks past his lips and he keens out loud, the tentacle around his cock speeding up its jerking movements, the tentacle _inside_ his cock wriggling almost unbearably. 

Jongdae’s eyes almost roll back in his head as the third tentacle joins the first two, there’s a small burn from the stretch but the aphrodisiac dulls the sensation, replaces it with lust and arousal. All at once, Junmyeon’s tentacles spring into action as he begins to thrust. Jongdae is covered in wildy writhing tentacles, textured undersides dragging against his skin. He has no idea what to focus on; the stretch of his ass, the incredible fullness and the power of Junmyeon’s thrusts. The wiggling of the tentacle inside his cock and the way it shifts with every motion and jerk. 

Incredibly overwhelmed, Jongdae just closes his eyes and enjoys every sensation at once, blissed out and well-fucked, sliding along the counter with every snap of Junmyeon’s hips. 

“You’re amazing,” Lips find his neck, and Junmyeon pants against the skin, dragging his tongue against the parts of Jongdae uncovered by tentacles, “You’re doing so well.”

Jongdae moans at the praise, at the feeling of tentacles pushing against his prostate. Everything is too much, his second orgasm builds quickly; he comes the second Junmyeon withdraws the tentacle in his cock, the sensation of the textured bumps pushing him over the edge. 

When Junmyeon comes it’s almost violent, and from every single appendage. It floods his mouth, coats his skin, fills him from the inside. He can feel it dripping from his ass as he comes down from his high, Junmyeon still mouthing along his jawline; Jongdae meets his lips in a filthy kiss. 

 

“Well,” Jongdae pants, running his hands through Junmyeon’s hair as he basks in the afterglow, “You’ve officially ruined sex for me.”

“Why is that?” Junmyeon sounds tired, sated, lazily dragging his lips and tongue across every part of Jongdae he can reach, “Was it bad?” 

“No one could ever compare to how _good_ that was,” Jongdae replies. He hesitates before speaking once more, “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Junmyeon mutters tiredly. It’s cute how cuddly he is post-sex, despite the fact that they’re sticky and covered in come. Jongdae’s going to have to invest in a lot of new bedsheets, especially considering the fact that sticky, messy sex will most likely be commonplace. 

He can’t wait to rub his new relationship and newfound amazing sex life in Baekhyun’s face. 

He can’t wait to replace his counter, either. 

There are just some stains you can’t get out.


End file.
